tadpoles in an inch
of water in a tire track
in this fallow field
with brittle stumps
of dry cornstalk jutting
every which way tails
wriggling in the glint
of the sun beating down
on their fat little backs
water stirring
heat quickening
molecules rising
evaporating
pool shallowing
muck swirling
shapeless mouths surfacing
taste the air—
-- Shane Ingan is from Indiana and lives in Detroit. He occupies no position of distinction whatsoever and is working on a big book of poetry about vanity.